


There's A Grief That Can't Be Spoken

by HuiLian



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Background Nakia/T'Challa, Gen, No editing we die like mne, the major character death is the one of infinity war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: there's a pain goes on and on.When Shuri grieves, she builts.





	There's A Grief That Can't Be Spoken

**Author's Note:**

> Let's assume that Shuri is alive, okay? Okay. 
> 
> title from Les Miserables

When Shuri grieves, she built.

***

The first time Shuri ever knew grief, she was eight.

When Shuri was five, her father brought her to a recovery center for injured wild animals they found near the borders of Wakanda. He told her the importance of keeping balance with the earth and nature by letting her see the animals that had been hurt by humans. He told her the importance of caring for the animals around them. Since then, she assigned herself the task of watching over a herd of elephants on the outskirts of Wakanda.

(One of the calves had been injured. They were fine after a few weeks on the recovery center.)

It was a reprieve. Whenever her studies got too boring, she would sneakily open the feed of that herd on her kimoyo beads. She would then marvel at the strength and precision of their trunks, the durability of their skin, and their elegant movements despite bearing the weight of over 250 kilograms.

Then one day, the matriarch of that herd, whom Shuri named Ramira, was shot. Poachers. Well outside the borders of Wakanda. (Wakanda would never let poachers enter.) They shot Ramira because of the sought-after ivory in her tusks.

Ivory. Just that. It is enough to kill Ramira.

Shuri watched it in live-time, having decided that her studies that day was too boring. She had thought that the herd seemed skittish and wary, but being wary is a good trait to have on the wilderness. She did not think too much about it.

Then one bullet, one measly bullet- the poachers still using hopelessly outdated technology- flew. As technologically behind as they were, their aim was true. Ramira did not stood a chance.

Shuri saw the bullet flying. She wanted to scream, to warn Ramira of the bullet. Shuri saw the bullet break skin. She wanted to use the entire fleet of Wakandan veterinarians to help Ramira. Shuri saw Ramira fell down. She wanted to hunt that poachers down and make them taste their own medicine.

Shuri did not do any of that, because she was safe inside the palace on Birnin Zana and she was supposed to be studying. Shuri did not do any of that, because she was a princess of Wakanda, and Wakanda has chosen to keep herself hidden behind walls and walls of technology. What Shuri could do was watch. So she watched and watched, until the herd has mourned their matriarch and buried her. She watched until the image of Ramira being shot was etched into her eyes. Shuri watched.

After her studies were done for the day (she cannot abandon them, a princess would never do that), Shuri locked herself in the palace's lab. She did not come out for dinner, she did not come out for rest. The entire palace's staff was looking for her, and she still did not come out.

It was T'Challa who had the sense to look for her in the laboratory. Even then, she did not come out.

When she finally did come out, she had created a new alloy that mimics the durability of an elephant's skin, but are bulletproof.

(This is important. They are bulletproof. Shuri could have made them resistant to heat, to cold, to electricity, to blaster fire- and she did, in the later models of that alloy- but she made them bulletproof first. She made them bulletproof.)

***

The second time Shuri knew grief, she was fifteen.

A rebel managed to snuck into the palace. No, not a rebel. Rebels. Just one, however, managed to enter the living quarters of the royal family.

Shuri was alone then. Baba and Uma were on a visit to the Border Tribe, while T'Challa was… out. (He was probably visiting Nakia, because he wouldn't tell her just where he was going. He only did that when he was trying to discreetly meet with Nakia. It never actually worked.)

Shuri was no Dora Milaje, nor was she a fighter of T'Challa's caliber, but she was decent enough. However, unlike the Dora Milaje or T'Challa, she had never actually fought anyone for real. Oh, she had sparred of course, and mock battles and contests, but she knew that when she did not win a particular fight, they will not kill her. This is much, much different.

It is not the skill of the rebel. He got lucky when he entered the palace. His skill was mediocre. It was the knowledge that she could very well die if she lost this fight.

Shuri blocked a blow to the head, then retaliated with a punch to the stomach. She saw a glint from the edge of her eye. A knife. Damn. This changed things.

She grabbed the trinket she was working on before this whole fiasco. Another upgrade for the kimoyo bead. Damn, damn, damn. Not good enough.

Change of tactics. An elbow to the hand holding the knife. Then a race to reach the knife.

Thank Bast she was faster. Her hand gripped the knife and out of instinct, she jammed it into her attacker's stomach.

A wet gasp. A thud. Shuri's world decreased into just her and him. Another thud. The weight in her hands vanished. Another one. She could feel her legs making contact with the floor. And then nothing. Nothing.

Uma told her later that it was a Dora Milaje who had found her lying on the floor with the dead body of her would-be attacker next to her. The Dora Milaje herself was frantic with worry; the rebels were not supposed to be able to end up as close as they actually got.

A flaw in the security system, T'Challa later told her. They are in need of an upgrade anyway. Baba, on the other hand, asked Okoye to push the Dora Milaje's training even further. No one was supposed to be able to enter the palace without the Dora Milaje knowing.

Shuri absorbed all that in silence. She still could not, and probably would never, forget the feeling of her knife entering her attacker's stomach. She aimed to kill, it was what she was trained. But a voice inside her keeps asking whether she would have killed the man if her training had been enough. After all, T'Challa, Baba, and the Dora Milaje managed to subdue enough people without resorting to a lethal attack. More than that, the part where Shuri could not forgive herself for, was that she was supposed to know everything there is about the technology inside the palace. But she neglected to study the security system. She neglected to improve the security system. That will not happen again.

The man's blood was on her hands. A rebel, a killer, he may be, but Wakanda do not kill without just cause. Shuri was supposed to be better than this. She was a princess of Wakanda. She was supposed to be better.

She would ensure that there will never be a man dead by her hands again that do not truly deserve it. (She would not promise no life taken by her hands. She knew full well that Wakanda was a country whose rulers are warriors. She can only promise that the next life taken by her hands will be because they truly deserve it, not because of her incompetence.)

Two days after the incident, a new security system was installed in the palace. It monitored the palace using cameras, motion sensors, and heat sensors. The surveillance was sent to the Dora Milaje and the royal family's kimoyo beads. Anything out of the ordinary will sent an alert, and the palace itself will go into self-defense mode. Nobody knew precisely who installed it, but everybody could guess who.

(And if Shuri threw herself into her training with a renewed vigor, nobody said a word about it. Except Okoye, who had her train with the best Dora Milajes she had.)

***

The third time Shuri knew grief, she was eighteen. She was eighteen and her father had just been killed on a UN meeting.

Shuri could only watch, helpless from the safety of the palace on Birnin Zana, as T’Challa jumped to make Baba stay down, as T’Challa tried to take the brunt of the explosion. Shuri could only watch, from both the footage on the television and the cameras Shuri herself put inside Baba’s and T’Challa’s suit, as Baba struggled to breathe. Shuri could only watch, as the sensors inside Baba’s suit show her what she most dreaded. No signs of life. No signs of life. No signs of life.

Shuri was eighteen, and her father had just died.

T’Challa did not choose to return to Wakanda for Baba’s funeral rites. He was too busy chasing the man that allegedly bombed the meeting place. (Allegedly, because Shuri could see something off about the footage, but that can wait. Baba came first. Baba always came first.)

T’Challa was not there, so the task of releasing Baba into Birnin Mutata, the city of the dead, fell to Shuri. Shuri did all she was expected to do, say all she was expected to say, and showed an appropriate mourning face. But she was not mourning then. She would mourn later, she would mourn alone.

T’Challa mourned by seeking justice for the man who had killed Baba. Uma mourned by planning all that was necessary for T’Challa’s coronation. Shuri would mourn in her own way. Baba would understand. He understood that every person needed to mourn in their own way. Baba would not begrudge her this.

Shuri went inside her lab.

The panther suit was resistant to heat. It was resistant to fire, to bullets and to electricity. But it cannot protect Baba if Baba was not wearing it. And Baba was not wearing it when he was at the UN meeting.

Baba said it was too much of a hassle to always wear it underneath his clothes. Shuri knew she should have wrestled the suit from Baba and add her own adjustments years ago. No, not the time for should haves. It was time to work. T’Challa would always have his suit next to him, he would always have the protection the suit would give him. And he would have it in seconds, no. He would have it in milliseconds. No other panther would die if the suit could protect them.

A necklace. It was inconspicuous enough. Nanotechnology would be perfect for this.

Another thing that the panther suit lacks was it was not resistant to energy. Kinetic energy to be precise. Most people think that the dangerous thing about explosions are the heat. But its kinetic energy is as dangerous as its heat.

But energy can be redirected. Hmm. Redirecting kinetic energy would need a material sturdy enough to shield the body, but malleable enough to absorb all of the available energy.

T’Challa would return for the coronation ceremony. Shuri would finish this before that, and this would be her gift to her newly crowned brother. She would finish this- and therefore her mourning- before her brother return, and she can greet him with a smile on her face.

(And if the upgrades that Shuri gave it would have been enough to save Baba’s life, T’Challa was kind enough not to say a word about it. After all, they all mourn in their own way.)

***

The fourth time Shuri knew grief, she was still eighteen. She was still eighteen and her brother had just fallen from a waterfall. She was still eighteen and in the span of a month, both her father and her brother had died.

Uma was screaming. She did not scream when Baba died. This was the first time Shuri had heard Uma screamed. Shuri found herself screaming with her.

Nakia was tugging her, asking her and Uma to go. The logical part of her brain was telling her to go with Nakia, but the less logical part of it, the eighteen-year-old girl who had just watched her brother die within weeks of her father dying, was rooted to the spot.

Nakia pulled her away, and she pulled Uma away too. Up and up the cliff, until Nakia pushed her into one of the secret passageways only the War Dogs knew. Shuri was too numb to think. She followed where Nakia led.

There is nothing to built now. Nothing to improve. She had no part in any of this. (She had no part in Baba’s death too, if she was being brutally honest to herself. But then there was something, something to improve. Something to fix. Now there was nothing. Now her brother was dead and she and Uma was a fugitive in their own country.)

There was nothing to built and everything to break. Even if they managed to overthrow Killmonger, Erik, N’Jobu, whatever that man called himself, who would be King then? Her? She was not meant to be Queen.

No. Breathe, Shuri. You are a princess of Wakanda. You are of Bast’s blood, and the panther’s blood run in your veins. You are a princess of Wakanda, and if she called it of you, you would be her Queen. Breathe.

Shuri felt her heart break. It was fine. Let the princess break and shatter. Let the Queen be reborn. When they took over the country, she would be ready. She would be ready.

This time, Shuri rebuilt her entire self.

*

T’Challa was alive. Thank Bast he was alive. Thank Bast he was alive.

(But the Queen that had been built inside her cannot be shattered. If she was shattered, there would be nothing left. Shuri built the Queen from what was left of her Princess self. But T’Challa was alive now. He was alive. Shuri could return to being the Princess, being the sister of the King.

She could. She could.

She built herself back up before, she could do it again.)

***

The fifth time Shuri knew grief, she was still, once more, eighteen. Her experience with grief had been lacking in the seventeen years that she has lived in this world, and so the world decided to pay its debt within this whole year. Shuri was eighteen and she was grieving the cousin that she never knew, another brother that she should have had. Shuri was eighteen and she was grieving a man that had suffered because her father did not see it fit to save his nephew.

T’Challa was also grieving this man, this peer he should have had growing up, and it shows. He opened up the borders of Wakanda. He created this outreach program in the neighbourhood that Erik, that N’Jobu had grown up in.

The neighbourhood was hardly fit for children to be growing up. It was hardly fit for _any_ person to be living in. (Shuri could not imagine a prince, much less a prince of Wakanda, growing up here. She was discovering new things about her father every day. Shuri grieved that too.)

T’Challa asked her to be the head of science and information program of this new outreach program. It was as if he knew her mind. She was already searching for things to built at home; she was already searching for things to improve at Wakanda. But T’Challa gave her something even better. He gave her a chance to built something new, something better, for these children. Of course she was going to accept it.

Shuri gave a cheeky smile to her brother, then she came to the children crowding their aircraft. They were all so curious, so full of life. Perhaps Erik had been one of these kids before? Before Baba, before Baba killed his father. (Her uncle. Another man to grieve for. Another family she would never know.)

Shuri answered the children’s questions one by one. Some of them are pretty intelligent, Shuri found. And pretty intelligent by her standards meant crazy intelligent for other people. She needed to see if she could arrange for those kids to be able to get a decent education in this country. They could make something amazing someday.

Maybe this time Shuri would build something else than technology. Maybe this time Shuri would build not just something to make the world better, but she would actually build a better world. Shuri exchanged a glance with her brother. This was really a better visit to the United States than going to Coachella.

***

The sixth time Shuri knew grief, she was twenty. This time, however, she was already building. She was trying to save the Mind Stone from Vision, but she was overpowered. The next time she woke up, Okoye came back without T’Challa, and half of the world’s population had been decimated.

No. A quick check of Wakandan kimoyo beads showed her what she had been dreading all along. Half of Wakandan population had disappeared. It could be easily concluded that the rest of the world was facing the same situation.

Breathe, Shuri. She was twenty-year-old, and her brother had died. Again. Uma. She had to find Uma.

(Shuri could not imagine what she would do if Uma also disappeared. No. Just find Uma. Focus on that.)

There. Shuri ran to her, and Uma was also running towards her. Why was it that whenever something happens, the ones that are left are the women? It was her and Uma again, just like it was her and Uma after Erik came to the country.

Erik. If T’Challa disappeared, who would be King then?

You, her mind supplied.

No. Uma would know. Shuri would not be Queen. T’Challa disappeared, he was not dead.

“Shuri.”

Shuri shook her head. She did not want to know. Not now.

“Shuri. You must take up the mantle.”

“No.” Shuri shook her head again. She knew perfectly well that she sounded like a child, shaking her head while clinging to her mother, but she could not bring herself to care. She was twenty, and her father had just died two years ago, and her brother had just died. Again.

“Shuri.”

She just wanted to soak up her mother’s voice, be a young adult for once in her life. But she was a Princess of Wakanda. She was a Princess of Wakanda, and now that T’Challa was.. gone, she was the Queen of Wakanda.

She was the Queen of Wakanda. Bast had finally called it of her.

Shuri took a deep breath. Let the Queen inside her come back out. She was not the Princess anymore, she was not the sister to the King. She was the Queen.

She lifted her head and met Uma’s eyes. The weight of an entire country fell on her shoulders now. Shuri lifted her head high.

She would mourn, but she would build this country back up while she was doing it. Wakanda would not fall. She would build it back up.

“Okoye.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Ask the remaining Dora Milaje to sweep the country. Neutralize the remaining alien forces. While you’re at it, aske the Border Tribe to close the borders again. We will build Wakanda back up.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Uma.”

Uma tilted her head.

“Ask the entire palace staff to create shelters, please. We do not know who had gone and who had been left behind. Wakanda is on alert now.”

“Of course, Shuri.”

And it went on. Shuri felt herself reciting instructions to the Dora Milajes, to the elders of the tribes, to the War Dogs, to the remaining citizens of Wakanda. The only thing in her mind was that she would not let Wakanda fall. Bast had seen it fit to give this situation to them, and she would make the best of it. Wakanda would not fall.

Shuri was twenty-years-old, and she was Queen of a nation in shambles. The nation would not be in shambles for long.

*

Wakanda would emerge stronger than ever from this. Shuri would make sure of it.

***

When Shuri grieves, she built.

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr (huilian.tumblr.com)


End file.
